


For A Divine Cause

by TheVelvetUndergrowth



Category: Ghost (Sweden Band)
Genre: Also featuring Primo in an all leather outfit (for anyone interested), Brotherly Bonding, Do not copy this work to other websites, Gen, Occasional foul language, Papa I & III's bond is underrated and needs more love, Social Anxiety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:28:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24327292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheVelvetUndergrowth/pseuds/TheVelvetUndergrowth
Summary: Having accepted the role as frontman for the newly revived Ghost Project, Papa Emeritus I discovers, to his great displeasure, that fronting a metal band may not be as simple as he had anticipated. In order to quell his sense of stage fright before going on tour, he finds himself being tutored by a rather unexpected teacher: his youngest brother!
Comments: 13
Kudos: 19





	1. Chapter 1

Standing in front of a large, ornate mirror in the living room of his quarters, Papa Emeritus I deliberated his image thoroughly.

_ ‘Is this really what young ones consider “cool” these days?’ _ He pondered upon looking at the outfit that his father had picked for him to wear. It had taken him at least a few minutes just to put on those damned black leather pants, which he already felt were constricting the blood flow in his legs, and he still wasn’t so sure about the matching studded jacket and combat boots. Even his old Deep Purple t-shirt, the only part of the outfit he got to pick out himself, was starting to feel a little too tight around the neck. Really if it weren’t for his skull-paint and the inverted cross necklace he wore, there would be no way of telling that he was the Messenger of Satan, but both his father and Sister Imperator insisted that this kind of outfit was “in” with the metal crowd. Perhaps it was for the best. If this was what it took for the youth of today to idolize him as a Rock & Roll star, then he’d gladly dawn this garb, even if it meant sacrificing any sense of class and comfort.

Primo heard a knock at his door. He opened it only to be greeted by a masked ghoul, one of his appointed band mates.

“They’re all starting to file in now, Papa, and the equipment’s finally set up. Have you…” the ghoul paused to take a gander at his Papa’s stage outfit, “…finished with your preparations?”

Primo held back the urge to speak of the matter.

“Yes, I am finished.”

He stood in silence for a moment, not really knowing what else to say or ask for. In truth, he was beginning to feel a slight dryness in the back of his throat at the thought of the show being mere moments away, but he quickly swallowed those emotions back down.

“Let us proceed now, shall we?” he spoke formally to the ghoul, “We must not keep our flock waiting.”

The two walked in silence to the gallery room, which was selected to hold their mini concert due to it being both a reasonably large and malleable space often used to set up for parties and the like. Primo had hoped that they could play in the chapel to fit with the band’s general atmosphere, but the area proved to be too cumbersome for the stereo and microphone setup. Besides, Nihil was adamant about hosting the performance in that room specifically, explaining how the raised floor in the back would be perfect to act as a “stage” for the band to perform on.

Primo hated how tight these pants were, and how the leather made an obnoxious squeak with each step he took. He couldn’t help but feel that his ghouls had got the better end of deal in the fashion department; all they had to wear were black hooded cloaks and facemasks. Much more subtle than his undead wrinkly old metal-head look, but that was done on purpose. Their job was to blend in, since all eyes had to be on him for the performance.

The dryness in his throat continued to linger as he walked, while an all too familiar fluttering sensation stewed in his chest. He tugged at the collar of his shirt and swallowed again.

_ ‘This is just a ritual. Just a black mass like any other, only instead of speaking your lines you’re going to sing them.’ _

__

He repeated this logical reasoning in his head over and over.

_ ‘You are only worrying about this because it is a new experience. You have already recorded these songs with the ghouls, nothing will change except the presence of a live audience. Besides, you are their Papa, they already respect and admire you.’ _

__

Well, the siblings and upper clergy certainly respected him as a spiritual leader, but rarely did they ever dare to approach him otherwise. He knew why, either from overhearing the gossip of those unaware of his presence or from pure instinct. He was not an outwardly social clergy member, unlike his brothers, and his strict adherence to the teachings of Lucifer and the Ars Goëtia apparently proved him to be too “intimidating” to the many of the siblings. No doubt they were all patiently awaiting to see the ascension of his successor...

_ ‘Nonsense! You are the head of a project that will convert the masses to Our Cause. They have to admire you, no matter what! Father and Imperator will be watching… but you were chosen by father to lead the project! You are an earthly vessel of the Morning Star’s power and wisdom, and this is just another form of worshiping Their Unholyness. This is your calling! This is your destiny! This-’ _

__

Upon opening the doors to the large rectangular room, Primo’s body froze.

Although the only source of light in the room was focused in the back where the stage was set up (each window having been draped to block out the natural light), he could see all the members of the audience in front of him, which consisted of the entire upper clergy. He had expected as much, and was at least thankful that he didn’t have to perform in front of all the Siblings of Sin, but still the mere sight of them all only seemed to add onto his already fretful state of mind. There were what looked to be a little over 50 individuals seated in foldable chairs, many of which had already turned their heads back to look at him as he stood there. The ghoul continued on ahead until reaching his band mates when he suddenly noticed his Papa was standing in place, and proceeded to gesture with his hand to come join him. Primo walked forward, his steps becoming pained from the tightness of his outfit.

_ ‘You have prepared for this. You know the setlist. You know what you are going to sing.’ _

__

As he ascended the small, wide staircase to join his ghouls on the raised floor, he couldn’t help but look out at the crowd, most of whom were staring straight at him. A few were smiling wide, others remained expressionless. The fluttering in his stomach turned into a burning pit.

_ ‘This is just like a ritual, nothing will be too different! I mean, it’ll be even shorter than that. You’re not even playing all the songs for this show!” _

__

He stood in front of the microphone stand, the sudden intensity of the fluorescent lights beating down on him and blurring his vision slightly. In the front row seats he could make out four white eyes staring back at him: two from his father, one from that strange new cardinal who now served as his father’s right hand, and the last from his brother, Secondo. Although Sister Imperator did not possess the white eye herself, he could still sense how her eyes bore into him. Primo clenched his fists in an attempt to keep his body from shaking.

_ ‘ThisisjustaritualThisisjustaritualYouknowwhatyouaredoingThisisjustari-’ _

__

Suddenly he could hear the opening drum beats of “Stand By Him” begin, followed by the other instruments. The panicked Papa tried his best to look proud as he held himself steady, looking out at the audience and waiting for his moment to join in.

“A temptress smitten by the blackest fooooooorce…”

Wait, that was the wrong line! Primo’s body flinched in response to the error. Should he complete the second verse or go back to the first?

“…Wh-when his and hers holiest shuns the suuuuuuuuuuun!”

That didn’t rhyme at all, nor did it make any sense thematically. In an attempt to calm his racing heart, he shut his eyes.

“A temptress smitten by the blackest fooooooorce

A vicar bitten blind in intercooooooooooooourse!”

After the slight mishap, he found that he was able to sing the remainder of the lyrics without a hitch, even if the pit in his stomach remained deep. As long as he tried not to make direct eye contact with anyone in the crowd, he was fine enough. He continued this method for the rest of the songs, until the final sound of applause marked the concert’s end. Imperator and Nihil walked up to his position and made some kind of speech, probably about celebrating the resurrection of The Project or something like that, he wasn’t listening too intently, especially with his ears still ringing from the sound of those electric guitars.

With that, she ordered the crowd to file out. At that moment all Primo could do was look at Secondo, his mind desperate for some form of reassurance or even some constructive criticism, but alas, even he was ordered to leave the room. Now alone with the band, Nihil and Imperator turned around to face Primo and his ghouls, who were now free of their instruments and flanking his sides. His father was smiling wide.

“That was wonderful!” Nihil said with clear elation in his tone, “It sounded just like the music of my time. Psychedelic soulfulness, but with a sharp edge!”

“Indeed,” Imperator agreed, “you all definitely have the sound that this project needs!”

The ghouls nodded contently at their words, soaking up the praise like sponges. Primo merely looked at the two of them and listened.

“You may leave us now, ghouls. Just make sure to work on your glamour for when you all start touring. I could see some of your tails sticking out.”

As the ghouls hurried out, Primo breathed heavily as he braced himself for their oncoming words to him.

“Primo, my son,” his father began, still maintaining a warm smile, “I admire the thought you put into writing your hymns, and your voice held the level of power I’ve come to expect from you,” he cleared his throat, “but, about your stage presence. It seems to be a bit, erm, how should I say this…”

“Tell me Primo, were you nailed to the floor as you sang?”

Imperator’s choice of words caught him off guard.

“E-excuse me?”

“Because the entire show you were stiff as a board! Do you really expect to entice your audience like that? Or are you not even interested enough to do that, what with you not even looking at any of us most of the time.”

Primo scratched at his face and looked back toward his father, whose face now wore a concerned expression.

“It… I…” the Papa gulped back his shame, then held his head up to look down at her, “This was not something that was planned out well enough for me. I would have been able to perform better if not for this constricting outfit you both wished for me to adorn!“

“Oh I think it was more than just the outfit” She quickly retorted, her eyes peering directly into his own, “If you are not truly qualified to front this project like you said, then we can easily find someone to fill in for you.”

His heart sank at her words.

“No! You both are not understanding, it’s just that I… I… have not prepared thoroughly enough for my role as this band’s front. Father, you know these sudden changes to my routine can at times be… hard for me, but give me some more time to adjust and I will do my work well!”

The two heads of the clergy took in his words in tense silence, and then turned to each other.

“He is my eldest heir, Sister, old enough to remember when I was leading the band,” his father spoke confidently, “If any of them will lead directly from my example, it would be him!”

Imperator took in his words for a moment, and then gave a light sigh as she turned back to Primo.

“We plan to start the tour in a month from now, so if we do need a replacement frontman we would have to act fast. We’ll hold another concert at the abbey in three days, and if you don’t show us any improvement by then, it would be most beneficial to us all for you to drop out of this role. Have I made myself clear?”

“Of course, Sister. I will use this time wisely, for the benefit of The Ghost Project.”

Nihil smiled once again, “Perfect! It is all in place now. I forgive you for your fault, mistakes do happen to even the best. I remember even I made a few miscalculations here and there when I was performing my music back in the day…”

Imperator rolled her eyes at that remark.

“But I know one thing about you, my son.” His father reached his arms out and firmly grabbed his son’s shoulders, looking at him face-to-face, “You will  **not** disappoint me.”


	2. Chapter 2

As Primo stepped out into the white marble halls, he found Secondo leaning against the wall, checking his watch. Confused, he walked over to him, his first step alerting his younger sibling to his presence.

“How was your bonding time with dear old papa?” He said with a facetious grin “I was worried those two were going to keep you there for longer. Care for a walk?”

Primo smiled. His brother always knew how to calm him during times of stress.

“Of course, _fratello_.”

The two took a path leading to the abbey’s courtyard. Now finally outside, they became enveloped in the fierce orange light of the late afternoon sun. Secondo reached into his pocket for his sunglasses, while Primo wished he had brought a hat of some kind. Still, he felt at ease strolling idly between the hedge-guarded flower gardens and spiraling cypress shrubs, the only notable sound being the steady gurgling coming from the fountain in the center. The heat his body was generating from all of the black leather on him made him steer their stroll in its direction.

“That Sister Imperator, she had some real nerve speaking to me the way she did! She probably thinks she can still direct me as if I were still a child, erm, that was back when she was still dating father, you weren’t there for that. But the fact that she refused to refer to me as Papa, that is what angers me! I cannot believe father would allow that indecency to happen!”

“It does not surprise me at all. Nihil acts like putty in her hands, practically begging to be molded by her whatever which way. I’ve seen him show more outward affection around her in the few months she’s been here than he’s shown us our entire lives.”

“I don’t even want to think of him right now.”

Upon reaching the fountain, he wasted no time sitting down on one of the grey stone benches nearby, letting the cooled air envelope him as he took off his jacket. From a short distance he could see two Brothers of Sin walking along the cloister, both staring directly at him. When he met eye contact with them, they instantly turned their heads away and quickened their pace. Secondo chuckled.

“You know, I wasn’t going to say anything about the outfit-“

“Oh Belial Below, please don’t.”

“But you can actually pull it off decently, especially for someone of your age. You’d look good in some finer leather.”

Primo groaned, “I doubt I would feel any good wearing it.”

“You could have it tailored if you’re worried about tightness. I know someone who could help you with that.”

“It is not just that. Honestly, just looking at myself in the mirror I knew this wasn’t going to work. Seeing myself in all of this,” he gestured at himself, “it made me feel… old.”

He looked down morosely at the shiny leather of his boots and pants and sighed.

“At least I don’t have to hear Terzo’s opinion on the outfit. I would never hear the end of it! Come to think of it, why wasn’t Terzo at our show today? It’s not like him to miss out on an event like that.”

Secondo sat down next to him, “Oh, there was no chance of him coming today. Nihil is punishing him by making him translate all these old texts or something, basically just pointless busy work. I don’t know what he did to deserve it this time, and frankly I don’t care enough to find out.”

Primo listened to his brother talk, but could not contribute any more to the conversation himself, instead focusing his eyes on the small statue of Lucifer perched atop the fountainhead. Even in the tranquility of the courtyard, the sensations he felt during the performance remained attached to his mind like a malignant tumor. He had to close his eyes and take in several deep breaths, only to suddenly feel a hand on his shoulder.

“I understand how unpleasant it must have been for you, but just know that you are not alone in this” his brother spoke calmly as he gave him a reassuring pat, “Honestly, I’m surprised you even took the position, considering it demands you to do so many things you hate.”

“I can handle loud noises, as long as I’m able to prepare for them,” he replied, his fingers now fidgeting with the cross on his necklace, “and the same goes with crowds. Singing these rock songs is not much different from reciting scripture for mass, I only stumbled once in the opening verse-“

“Primo, you were avoiding eye contact with us the whole show. Your leg was shaking like crazy for the first two songs and you didn’t move _at all_ from the microphone stand. Being a frontman is more than just singing the lyrics correctly, you have to direct as much attention to the band as possible.”

“Yes, I am _acutely_ aware of my failings, Secondo. I’ll have it all fixed in the next three days.“

“Three days? That’s all they’re giving you? I do not mean to offend you, _frate_ , but with that performance you gave it’s going to take a blessing from The Olde One himself for you to get over all of that! Besides, wouldn’t you not want to deal with the stress of performing before you retire?”

“Excuse me?” With that last sentence, Primo’s mood turned from anxiety to suspicion. He turned to face his brother. “Why are you bringing up my retirement? I can’t imagine why unless you’re honestly trying to vie for my role as frontman.”

Secondo remained resolute, “I’m not vying for anything. However, I do feel it would be best for both of us if I were to take the position off of your hands if, and only if mind you, it doesn’t work out for you. You’ll still be credited as a songwriter, so it wouldn’t even be a huge loss for you all things considered.“

“You son of a bitch!” Primo instantly shot up from the bench and glared down at him, “Is this what you were thinking the whole time?! You know this is the last major event I’m to tackle as Head of the Church and I am not going to throw it away just because you want it!”

His younger sibling stood up, calm yet plainly frustrated at his elder’s words. “This isn’t about my desires. I was only offering because I wanted to help you-“

“Oh spare me, _tu_ _imbroglione_!” Primo growled, “You want this all to yourself. Something more interesting to occupy your time while you wait to succeed me!”

With that, he turned and briskly walked away from his brother, who in turn tried to follow him. Though he could no longer see his younger’s face, he could hear his stifled anger in the sharpened tone of his voice.

“Look, if I were really so power-hungry for your position in this project, I could have easily convinced Nihil to give it to me instead. Hell, I could have easily convinced him to give it to Terzo! But I didn’t, because I knew you had already accepted it and I could respect that. But I know you, _fratello_ , and I am only being realistic when I say that there is no way you could possibly turn yourself into a fully fledged, attention craving rock star in just three days!”

Primo did not reply to his brother, he simply kept on walking back into the inner halls of the abbey. He was not pursued any further.

* * *

_‘What an absolute brat! He waits for me to show just one sign of weakness and thinks he can just swoop in and usurp my position!’_

Feeling angry and utterly betrayed, he hurried along through the abbey’s well-lit halls in order to reach the refuge of his private quarters, paying no attention to any sibling, ghoul, or cardinal that passed him by. It was not a far walk, but the few minutes it took to reach his room seemed to drag on for twice as long, all while the memories of his displeasures of the day rose and sank like waves in his head.

‘ _And he truly believes that it is “realistic” that I will fail? “Realistically” he should have some kind of liver disease from the towering amount of alcohol he’s consumed in his life, but here we are!’_

Finally, he could see the door to his chambers.

‘ _They just don’t understand. If that horrid outfit wasn’t as constricting as the deepest crevices of Hell, I would have certainly been more focused! I’ve conducted masses and rituals for decades now, and this is just like that! I have no excuse for being so…so…’_

Primo stopped himself before he could open the door, and reflected on his thoughts. What was he doing? Blaming that clear display of social anxiety on merely his stage uniform? As much as he wished not to admit it, he knew that Secondo was right. Fronting a band was not the same as leading a ritual, and he knew that it would be an overwhelming challenge to quell his long embedded shyness all on his own. But who could possibly help him in this scenario? He would need to be trained on how to maintain eye contact with multiple people all while moving amongst the stage and singing passionately enough to captivate them. Yet still that would be a catch-22, since his social anxiety would not allow him to fully cooperate with a trainer that he didn’t personally know.

As he turned the knob of the door, however, a strange sense of calm suddenly enveloped him as his brain suggested an idea. Perhaps it would be possible to be trained in this art in such a short span of time. And, indeed, he already knew the man who could teach him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone curious, tu imbroglione roughly translates to "you trickster" or "you cheat" in English.


	3. Chapter 3

The sun was beginning to set as Primo approached his destination. He had made sure to change out his previous stage clothes and into something more casual: just a simple black button shirt with matching trousers and his brown oxford shoes. The exhaustion of the day coupled with him having to go up two flights of stairs upon realizing that the elevator was broken had left him aching and out of breath, but he knew he could not waste any more time. At last, he was standing in front of an office door, and on a silver plaque he could read the name of the only possible help he can get to earn his spot as frontman:

“Cardinal Emeritus III”

He reached his hand down to pull the door handle, but something made him pause. Even though he had reached his destination, a small part of him feared what would happen if he entered. Secondo had already made a move for his position earlier today, so who is to say that his youngest sibling would not try and do the same? Besides, he knew that they often did not exactly see eye to eye on many church matters. What if he was only walking straight into an oncoming argument about who deserves what?

Before he could worry anymore, he heard some people coming up from across the hall. Not wanting to look foolish just standing around, he quickly opened the door and entered. He had not taken two steps in before he could see the image of his little brother, adorned in his black cassock and hunched over his desk, whose head instantly looked up from what he was doing to see who had entered his workspace.

“ _Frate_!”

Terzo shot up like lightning at the sight of him. Just as Primo had turned to close the door shut, his youngest was already rushing towards him with an utterly palpable sense of joy.

“Thank Lucifer you arrived! I was _this_ close to losing my fucking mind in here!”

“It is good to see you too. I’ve heard you’ve been busy all day?”

“Ah shit, you have no fucking idea. Come sit down!”

With that he led Primo by the arm over to one of the red velvet chairs in front of his desk. Looking around the room, he found the lavish ebony wood walls, large bookcases behind the desk, and overall small space to be a welcome reprieve for his senses, especially after all of the bright lights he had endured earlier. While he found it much like a cozy little cave, he could also see why his brother would be so easily wound up in here. Having to stay put in a cramped room for hours doing such a precise, repetitive task had definitely triggered his claustrophobia, which could clearly be seen in how he paced around behind his desk.

“You know how long I’ve just been sitting here, translating page after page after page of this nonsense? Go on, guess.”

Primo relaxed into his chair and thought for a moment, trying to come up with a reasonable timeframe.

“I don’t know, erm… three hours?”

“Five, Primo. Five. Fucking. Hours.” Terzo stressed, his straining sanity further confiscated by a slight twitch in his eye, “And for what? So some novices _might_ be able to read up on all these outdated summoning practices?!”

“It may seem useless to the untrained eye, but this is important work, you know.”

“ _Oh sure_ , maybe for those who just happen to be obsessed with 19th century ritual practices, but who in the fuck is actually going to use any of this crap?! The real reason I’m doing all this shit-sucking labor is because father hates me right now, that’s the only reason!”

While it would have been tempting to start an actual debate over the purpose of critically analyzing older texts for the sake of preserving history, Primo knew that to do so at the moment would be the equivalent of throwing a stone at a hornet’s nest, so he let it rest for now. Even still, just hearing his youngest converse with him was enough to ease his anxiety. It had been far too long since they last conversed about anything, especially with how busy his schedule had been as of late. Finally, Terzo sat back down in his office chair, making sure to give a loud sigh as he did so.

“So anyway, what is it that you need?”

Just with that question, Primo’s apprehension came rushing back in, causing him to hesitate for a moment.

“Ah, right! Of course, of course, I… um…”

Already he began fidgeting with his hands out of reflex. He didn’t expect to feel such a fierce wave of embarrassment in asking his youngest for help, but then again he had not fully planned on _how_ exactly he should ask for his assistance. In a vain attempt to bury his nervousness, he pretended to cough and clear something from his throat.

“Ahem! Excuse me. As I was saying, I am in need of your assistance.”

“Ok. For what exactly?”

“For, well… personal matters. Relating to the church, of course.”

Terzo tilted his head slightly. “Like?”

As Primo tried to find the right words for his question, he let out a high pitched, exasperated breath that made his brother chuckle. Primo instinctively looked away from him. It was a good thing he still wore his skull paint, otherwise his face would look as red as a freshly stained alter bed.

“You don’t have to be so coy with me, you know. I’ll understand whatever it is you need. Is it the Internet again? Honestly it really isn’t that hard to get your connection back, you just have to-“

“What? No, it’s not that! I know enough on how that thing works. I just need you to help me quell my anxieties so that I can efficiently perform for The Project!”

His brother was instantly taken aback by this request. He processed his elder’s words for a moment before he replied.

“Um… OK, but I don’t know exactly what you mean by this. What kind of ‘project’ are you talking about?”

Still nervous, he took in a deep breath and explained himself.

“I’m talking about The Ghost Project. I fear that I am not as prepared for this role as I thought I would be. At the concert this afternoon, my performance was… less than satisfactory, you could say-“

“Wait a minute! There was a concert today? No one ever told me that!”

“-As I was saying, there were some issues holding me back from being a proper frontman. Father and Sister Imperator threatened to go looking for a new singer for the tour if I do not improve-“

“Hold on again, I’m sorry. You’re touring with the band?!”

“Yes I am!” Primo growled, his rising stress now causing him to rock back and forth slightly in his seat, “Will you let me finish my sentences, _per favore_?”

“ _Si si, certamente_!” Terzo reassured as he then reclined back into his chair, stretching his back and rolling his shoulders. “I just didn’t realize that Ghost was really going to be a thing again. I was under the impression that you were just writing and recording some songs to appease one of father’s little nostalgia episodes and were going to sell online or something. I had no idea that you were actually planning a full tour.”

“Well, you could have asked me…”

“And you could have been more vocal about it! I mean if I haven’t even overheard the clergy gossiping about it, then how could I have known?”

Something about that information cut deep into Primo’s mind. He looked down at his hands, his sharp nails beginning to leave light scratches all over their backs and palms as he continuously wrung them together, while he struggled to come up with a sharp retort. Right now all he could do was hate his shyness. He absolutely hated how it dulled his wit, how it made him worry over the talk of the lower clergy, and especially how it made him look meek in front of his youngest sibling!

“Besides,” Terzo continued nonchalantly, “why would _you_ of all people even want to be a frontman to some low-grade metal band?”

Primo looked up at his brother again. He swallowed, took in another deep breath, and then let out a strained whimper. He closed his eyes and looked down again.

“ _Frate_?” he heard Terzo say, his voice having noticeably softened, “I didn’t mean what I said about the band being low-grade. I just meant that it’s, you know, underground. That’s what I meant.”

Every breath that came out of him resulted in another humiliating whimper, while his face grew warmer and warmer.

“I-I’m sorry I didn’t come speak to you about The Project! You know me, I get distracted easily by all this other shit. I’m a terrible brother, I know!”

“It’s not your fault, Terzo,” he finally replied as he slowly got up from his chair, “I’m sorry I bothered you with this…”

“What, no! You never bother me with anything! You said you wanted my help with something? I’ll help you! Just tell me exactly what you want and I’ll do it!”

Terzo got up from his seat in a flash and bolted to the door, preventing his eldest sibling from leaving. Primo was now forced to look his brother in the eyes again, unable to hide his utterly dejected expression from Terzo’s now concerned face.

“Primo, it’s OK. I understand that you take your work very seriously, and I know at least that you’re doing this whole frontman business for the sake of the Church-“

“It’s not for the sake of the Church, it’s for the sake of myself!” Primo cried out in frustration before pausing to compose himself. He forced himself to make direct eye contact with his brother.

“My reign as Papa is coming to an end soon, I know you can all sense it, and throughout my entire time as leader of this abbey I’ve seen how little my subjects think to engage with me beyond my role as an authority figure. I know I’m not like you or Secondo or father, but I have tried to be relatable to them, Sweet Lucifer I have tried, but I just… can’t keep up with them all. My mind prevents me from wanting to start small talk, or wishing to stay at social gatherings for longer than I am needed, and I know they think of me as rigid and uninviting as a result of my inhibitions. I want to lead Ghost because it’s something that I can relate to them with, writing music that I grew up enjoying in my youth and being front and center as a lead singer. But this has become so hard for me! I don’t want to spend the rest of my retirement thinking about how I lost something that would have brought me such joy, and how my followers would have seen me as just some cold, insipid, undesirable old man!”

With that he stopped and grabbed his forehead, rubbing his thumbs in circles across his temples to try and ease the pain of his burning humiliation. The heat was only slightly lessened by a few stray tears that trailed down his cheeks. All the while, Terzo said nothing. He simply looked at him with worried contemplation.

“I know this is all so much for you to take in,” Primo said while rubbing his eyes with his hand, “and I am not asking you to-“

His words were suddenly cut off by a strong hug.

“I had no idea you were feeling such torment over this,” Terzo’s words were warm and calming, and he swayed back and forth as he held his eldest brother, who proceeded to hold him tightly in return.

“And you have nothing to fear for what the rest of the clergy thinks of you. I feel the same way sometimes, more than I’d like to, actually. All that really matters is working to prove them wrong, which is something I _know_ you always do.”

For a moment, neither said a word. The two simply stood and embraced one another, even if their notable height difference meant that Terzo had to stand on the tips of his toes simply to reach the right level for a proper hug. Although the pain of his confession still lingered in his mind, Primo could not help but smile, and he bent down just enough to nuzzle his little brother’s head. At last, and without any further inhibition looming over him, he made his request.

“I had terrible stage fright today, _frate_. Do you think you could help me overcome it in the next three days?”

“Stage fright? That’s all?” Terzo gave him a final squeeze before letting go, now looking much more relaxed himself, “You asked the right man for the job! I’ll teach you everything I know! Hell, why does it have to be three days? I can teach it all to you in one, free of charge!”

Primo smirked at his brother’s beaming bravado. “That would be nice, but first we need to plan out how you’re going to accomplish this.”

“Right now? Alright, where did you perform the concert?”

“Oh, just in the gallery-“

“And when would you like to start our little session?”

“Erm… well, I would prefer as soon as you are available-“

“Alrighty then, we’re doing it tonight!” Terzo clapped his hands to finalize the arrangement; “I’ll meet you outside the room at lets say… 11:00 PM. All the night owls should have rushed back to their beds for curfew by then, and we can practice your routine with no interruptions!”

“W-Wait just a moment!” Primo, utterly confused by the bombardment of information, tried to reason with his brother, who was now moving back to his desk and closing each of the several books he was working with. “As usual, you’re thinking too quickly! First of all, I don’t have my own key to that room, so we’d need to-“

“No no no no no, none of that now!” He hushed him with a wave of his hand, “You should not be worrying about any of this planning bullshit. All you need to do beforehand is go relax until we’re ready for practice. I need you feeling your best for me tonight!”

“Oh. Are you sure? I would not wish to keep you from your work, especially since you’re so close to finishing it all.”

“Oh fuck this crap, it’s already done! YOU are my top priority right now!”

That was a blatant lie, he could tell just by the tone in his voice, but Primo didn’t care. The absolute relief that Terzo so readily gave him was all that mattered now.

“Anyway, you should probably get going. Hanging out with me right now probably isn’t the best way to get your nerves steady. I’ll see you in-” he turned to look at the clock mounted on the right-hand wall, “-four hours!”

“Very well. Don’t stress yourself now. You wouldn’t want your strain to rub off on your student!”

With that, Primo made his way to the door, making sure to give his brother a final goodbye as he exited.


	4. Chapter 4

Upon entering his living quarters, the first thing Primo did was fix himself a nice, warm bath. As he waited for the hot water to fill the tub, he made sure to wash off his now smudged and cracking face-paint in the sink, then added to the bath two cups of Epsom salt and a homemade chamomile bath bomb. Simply dipping a toe into the water filled his body with a rush of exultation, and as he laid into it the sweet smell and heat worked quickly to expel all of the day’s stresses.

It was a struggle to leave the tub, but the risk of becoming too pruned by the water proved too severe to ignore. Adorning his black-and-red silk bathrobe, the newly relaxed Papa wandered over to the sitting room’s grandfather clock to check the time:

9:28 PM

Damn, was he really in the tub for that long? No matter, it would still be over an hour until he was to meet with Terzo for his nightly practice, and he could not afford to worry too much over anything so miniscule. As he made himself a cup of ginger tea with honey and lemon, his mind turned to reading. At first he was tempted to crack open that still unread horror novel he bought on a whim some months ago, the one about a family that moves into a house that’s far larger on the inside than on the outside, but simply holding the weight of it in his hands told him that he needed to dedicate several afternoons at least to that behemoth.

Then it came to him: how about a quick read through his old music magazines? That would set the mood perfectly! Pulling out and opening up a large cardboard box from his bedroom closet, he grabbed the first few issues sitting at the top of the pile and sat in his reading chair. There, with his half-finished teacup resting on the side table and the small stack of aged magazines in his lap, he eagerly revitalized the fond memories of his youth through each attention-grabbing headline.

By the time he had finished looking at the “exclusive import” albums advertised in the last magazine, it had quickly dawned on Primo that he had lost all sense of time. He set the mag down and rushed over to check the clock once more:

11:01 PM

_‘Shit!’_ He was already late for his own practice! With not a moment to spare, he hastily ran back to the bathroom, shed his bathrobe, and put his clothes back on. Then he hurried over to his bedroom mirror and, as quickly as he could, applied a fresh layer of black and white paint to his face. Unnecessary perhaps, but Papa took his role as anti-pope far too seriously to ever be caught wandering the abbey without his skull paint, that was simply too unprofessional! The make-up turned out surprisingly good for a rush job, and by 11:07 he made his way out the door and into the now darkened halls. As he paused to remember his sense of direction, he was startled by a sudden voice from behind.

“Guten Abend, mein Schüler!”

Through that terrible impression of a German accent, he could tell it was just Terzo. However, as he turned to face him, his mind was instantly gripped in terror at the sight of the studded leather jacket his brother wore.

“Where did that come from?” Primo asked, trying to play it casual.

“Oh, this thing?” his brother smiled, then spun around like a fashion model to show it off, “I was walking by the courtyard a few hours ago and saw it lying abandoned on a bench by the fountain. I didn’t want it to just sit there all night, so I thought I’d incorporate it for our little lesson! Why, do _you_ want to wear it?”

“Oh, uh, no thank you! That look wouldn’t suit me.”

“Don’t be so unsure of yourself, I bet you could pull it off decently.” Terzo said with a smirk. “Now let’s head to it, shall we?”

Thankfully he did not say anything else on the matter, and so the two headed off to the gallery for their nightly lesson. By now it had gotten so dark that the Anti-Pope could only see a hazy outline of the winding halls through his enchanted white eye. As it turned out, entering the room at this hour turned out to be far less of a hassle than either of them had anticipated, since someone had apparently forgotten to lock it up. Primo couldn’t help but notice an air of disappointment in his brother’s voice as he described his “original plan” for gaining entrance to the room.

As they opened up the tall wooden doors to the room, he saw that the backlights were already turned on, and from the illuminated “stage” he could make out a single foldable chair in front of it, the rest having been folded and lined up along the side walls.

“I took the liberty of setting things up before you arrived,” said Terzo as the pair made their way to the back of the room.

Primo simply murmured in agreement. Upon reaching the chair, he noticed a small portable mug sitting atop of it.

“What is this for?”

“Oh that’s just some coffee I made. I brought it for you just in case you needed to keep awake.”

“Keep awake? What, are you really assuming that just because I’m nearing my 70’s that I’ve already degraded down to our father’s state of health?”

“Hey, I’m not assuming anything! I just figured it was going to be a decently long night!”

“I kid, I kid!” Primo assured him. He picked up the mug and placed it beside the chair he sat down in, and then straightened his posture as he looked at his “mentor” for the evening, “Shall we begin?”

“Of course!”

With that, Terzo casually strutted up to the center of the raised floor. While the speakers had been moved out of the way, the microphone stand remained front and center. He watched his sibling standing proudly above him as he took the mic from its stand.

“Gooooooood evening everyone!”

Primo flinched as soon as he heard him yell into the microphone and tried to shush him, at least until he realized to his great relief that the mic was not plugged in.

“How the fuck are you all doing on this lovely night?”

Terzo paused after that, awaiting a response. It took Primo another moment to realize that he needed to give an answer.

“Umm… good?”

“Good! That’s exactly what I want to hear,” he said with a warm smile, “I always wish for the best for my audience.”

“I’m sure you do, but why are you playing pretend with an imaginary crowd?”

“Well, think about it,” Terzo replied as he took a step closer. Using his free hand he grabbed the top of the mic stand and lowered it slightly with his palm, holding it as if it were his cane. “Am I here to teach you how to engage a single audience member? Of course not! Trust me, I’ve seen enough concerts to know how this goes. Just ask ‘em how they’re all doing and if they’re ready for a hard rocking show, then introduce the next song. You can probably start improvising after you’ve done it for awhile.”

Primo nodded contently at each point made, but mentally he was kicking himself for asking such a stupid question. Of course Terzo would go all out when it came to teaching him how to handle the audience, they had no time to take these lessons slowly!

“Is it best to start talking to them after the first song, at least for a beginner such as myself?” he asked, trying to rebound from the pointlessness of his first question.

“Not necessarily. Perhaps if your ghouls need to retune their instruments, or maybe if you’re only playing a few songs for the show. How many songs are going to be on your setlist?”

“Well, we only played five songs for this afternoon’s concert, but I assume that we are going to play all nine for the tour.”

“Nine… that’s a decent amount. If you really want to stretch it out I’d suggest engaging with them every two or three songs, and save the last bit for right before the final song.”

He nodded in agreement at his younger’s advice, but his mind was still swirling about trying to picture how he would do this. Should he be casual? He would be performing in front of strangers of many different backgrounds, so he’d be at the risk of scaring them off with the band’s image alone, let alone with the gospel he preached. Oh, but these were metalheads, they’re already used to songs of darkness and the Devil. Perhaps he should keep the imposing persona he takes guise in during his rituals, but then again he was always pretty rigid with his routine of following the scriptures. Would he accidentally make it too boring for them?

“Perhaps we shouldn’t worry about that yet,” said Terzo, clearly sensing that his brother was needlessly overthinking the advice, “let’s just focus on quelling your stage fright. Now, what would you say your biggest issue was?”

Primo broke from his train of thought at these words.

“Oh! Well, I would say my lack of movement as I sang. Our songs are far too energized for me to just be standing still, but the sight of them all watching me just…” he gestured wildly at his head trying to find the right words, “…rendered me motionless. Like a deer in headlights, you could say.”

“Mm hmm. Your anxiety got the better of you then, but thankfully you will only be performing in front of me tonight, so you have nothing to be anxious over right now!”

Terzo pulled the mic stand back up to the height of his own head and walked back behind it, fiddling with the microphone’s long cord as he placed it back into the holder. He closed his eyes and smiled as he raised his index finger like a maestro conducting an orchestra, then opened them again.

“How about we start with a demonstration of movement? I haven’t heard any of your songs yet, so you’ll have to give me an example of the tempo you’ll be singing to.”

_‘What a show off.’_ Primo thought as he watched his little brother’s actions. He resisted the urge to take a crack at his pretentiousness for the sake of getting on with the lesson.

“Our songs are basically like all the heavy metal I used to listen to, but honestly I don’t want to move around fast at all, and it is _not_ just because of my hips! I’d prefer to look more calm and collected as I move about. Someone who’s imposing, but enticing as well.”

“Hmmm, I see…” his brother contemplated for a few moments, “Then you need to focus on more slow and methodical moves, like such!”

With that, he put one of his arms out and began to raise it up slowly, only stopping once his hand reached just below the length of his shoulder.

“You can do this either when the volume of the song increases,” he then made a beckoning gesture with his raised hand, “or if you want to rile up your audience.”

For emphasis he then repeated the same motion with both arms, his calm yet dark expression giving off the energy of a priest commanding his congregation to rise.

“And of course, make sure to bring it in to show your passion,” he continued, now bringing both arms close to his chest, his hands fisted and his eyes closed. After a moment, he stretched his arms out to his sides and opened his eyes once more as well as tilting his head up ever so slightly.

“And bring it out to show your power!”

Primo took in each detail of every movement carefully. Several more hand and arm motions were demonstrated, this time while moving around on stage: scanning the crowd with your free hand, pointing at the crowd, putting your hand on your heart, the works. All of these motions were so simplistic, it briefly made him wonder why he was unable to perform any of these actions during the performance this afternoon.

It didn’t take long for the answer to dawn on him. It wasn’t the actions themselves that were simple, but the fact that _Terzo_ was performing them. For someone who had never fronted for a band in his life, the man was almost disturbingly natural in how he commanded the floor. Every little hand gesture he taught was accompanied by all sorts of little flourishes. Sometimes giving off a power stance and moving his hips to an imaginary beat, or maybe doing a little twirl as he turned himself around, at one point even throwing the microphone from one hand to the other. The way he maintained eye contact with both his brother and the imaginary crowd was calculated and intense, not unlike that of a nocturnal panther on the hunt. All his movements were just as careful and eloquent, even if he did step on the microphone chord and nearly fell at one point. Hell, even that damn leather jacket seemed to fit him better.

Although Primo made sure to stay engaged and ask questions about certain actions, just the act of watching his youngest brother effortlessly demonstrate his presence on stage was making him feel somewhat dejected. Terzo had just as little experience in performing live as he did yet was so much better at it, perhaps he should be fronting the band instead.

_‘What is wrong with me? I can’t cast myself down with my own pathos this early! He just wants to impress me, that’s all. But why is my mind already so exhausted? Maybe I could use that coffee…’_

Reaching down for the mug (which was thankfully still warm), he took in a larger gulp of the beverage than he intended and nearly ended up spitting it all out due to the unexpectedly bitter flavor.

“Fuck!” Primo had to clear his throat before he could get another word out, “Is this black coffee?”

“Yeah? I said it was going to wake you up, what were you expecting it to taste like?”

“Anything other than a used ashtray, that’s what!”

“Oh it does not! You people just need to learn how to drink coffee without milk and sugar, how it ought to be drunk! You are feeling alright though, yes? Nothing wrong with your throat?”

“Yes yes, it seems my only damage here is actually wanting to enjoy what I drink.”

Terzo rolled his eyes and huffed, then placed the microphone back in its holder and hastily descended the little staircase to join his elder’s side.

“That’s good, now it’s your turn.”

The old Papa nearly dropped his mug at that reply, but he had to comply. He stood up and ascended to the raised floor, standing exposed once again under the bright lights and in front of the microphone, this time without the faint hum of electricity it had when plugged in. His brother had taken his seat. Even with just one pair of eyes watching him, Primo felt that fierce fluttering in his stomach once again. He grabbed the microphone and lingered, not knowing if he should pull it off of its stand or not, before deciding to let go of it. He swallowed and cleared his throat.

“He-Hello!” He blurted out into the mic, wincing at his own stuttering.

“Hi.” Terzo replied nonchalantly.

Not even thirty seconds on stage and Primo already felt stupid.

_‘Don’t do this to yourself. This is just practice, no one’s here to shame you for messing up.’_

He kept up this internal reassurance while pondering what to do next. Should he practice introducing himself first, or should he go straight into singing one of the songs? For whatever reason, he began to scan the room as if he were looking upon a full audience, which predictably did nothing to quell his sudden anxieties.

“It’s alright, Primo,” Terzo spoke calmly, “Remember that it’s just the two of us here.”

_‘Yes, it’s only Terzo and I, but why is my heart still racing?’_

“I’m sorry, I just need to relax my nerves before I try anything.”

“Take your time.”

Primo closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, straightening his posture. Yet even as he opened them again, all his mind could focus on was how exposed he felt under the bright lights, thinking of how much his regal skull paint stood at odds with his casual attire.

“Terzo, if I may ask, how do you feel so at ease performing in front of me? What do you do to feel so confident on stage?”

“Well,” Terzo paused for a moment to consider his words, “I just thought about why I wanted to perform in front of you, then kept that idea in the back of my mind as a sort of goal to accomplish. Just think of it like this: why do you want to be the frontman for Ghost above anybody else?”

“Because I…” Primo paused to give the idea more thought; “I want to enlighten the youth of today with the Teachings of Satan through the all-encompassing power of rock music, to enrapture and inspire actions of hedonism within them in order to lead their minds and bodies closer to the Gates of Hell… and because I want to be a rock star!”

“You see? Those are as good of reasons as any!”

“I’m sure they are but… I cannot ignore how much they contrast each other. I feel absolute confidence in my role as Papa, but I have no experience to go by when it comes to being in a rock band. I just don’t know how to merge them together…”

“Look, I’m just making suggestions here, I don’t know what more to do to help you with this.”

“But is there any way I can convince myself that I know what I’m doing in front of these people? Earlier I tried to compare my lead role to that of a ritual-“

“Well there you go! Just act exactly as you would performing a ritual!”

This wasn’t going well at all. Terzo, despite his reserved demeanor, was clearly getting annoyed with his elder’s hesitation, while Primo’s unsteady mind still lingered over every miniscule aspect of a performance he had not even begun to practice yet. Oh, why did his introversion have to take over now? Why did this needless fear of being seen have to make even the simplest actions so difficult?!

_‘Please relax… you have to be calm and just do it. You only have two more days after this to perfect your part. You perform your role as Papa so easily, but there you have the luxury of being a beloved figure draped in your papal vestments, on stage you’ll just be some old man wearing Hell-knows-what! Oh why can’t this be like a ritual...’_

It was then that it dawned on him. Maybe he could make this like a ritual, the only thing holding him back was that he couldn’t accomplish this simply as himself…

He had to do it as Papa.

“I know exactly what I need!” Primo proudly proclaimed as he hurried down to the entrance of the room, “I’ll be right back Terzo, it won’t take long at all!”

“What-“

Primo couldn’t hear the rest of Terzo’s sentence as he closed the door to the gallery and hurried off to his chambers. He moved as fast as he could down the pitch-black halls until reaching his chambers once more, where he then combed through his key rack until finally finding the key he was looking for. He then made his way to the sacristy.

* * *

Upon entering the gallery once again he could see Terzo sitting on the raised floor’s steps, his head looking somewhere at the ceiling while he bounced his leg anxiously. The sound of the large doors closing alerted him to his elder’s presence, and he shot up instantly.

“You better have gotten what you…”

Terzo couldn’t even finish his sentence upon realizing what Primo had done to himself. His body was now fully adorned in his alb and chasuble, with his plain white mitre resting proudly on his head. In his newly gloved hands he held a silver censer burner, which swung idly as he walked. Papa did not say a word as he moved up the steps, not wanting to spoil the rare joy of rendering his youngest brother speechless. The Anti-Pope stood in front of the microphone stand just as he would behind a pulpit, and then raised his free hand high in the air and began to sing.

“Lu-ci-feeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeer

We are heeeeeeeeeeere

For your praaaaaaaaise

E-vil Ooooooooooooooooone…”

With one hand he swung his censer back and forth as he sang, all while commanding an invisible congregation with the gestures of his free hand. It was crazy just how much easier it was to perform a song while in his papal vestments, but that came as no surprise to him. This was a role he was already comfortable in, something that he knew he held no weaknesses in. Through just this simple outfit change, he would be sure that every metalhead he played for would know that they were blessed with the presence of Papa Emeritus I.

The intense high of performing the song slowly fell as Primo finished singing, and he looked at Terzo to study his reaction. His expression appeared to be one of half shock, half intrigue, which was then accompanied by excitable laughter.

“Primo that was fantastic!”

“You truly think so?”

“Are you fucking kidding me? This is an excellent idea! I can’t believe no one else thought of it!”

He ran up to Primo to better study his image, who in turn stretched both arms out to fully show off his elegant chasuble. The sheer excitement of both brothers was palpable.

“Your confidence was clearly evident, and you did a pretty decent job moving your hands around and showing eye contact. We’re definitely going to need to work on it some more, but I’d say it’s a good start for now!”

“Oh thank Lucifer…” Papa relaxed at his brother’s words until a sudden realization soured his mood, “Unfortunately, father’s going to throw a fit if I try to bring my vestments out for the tour. Probably going to bitch about how ‘they will get ruined up on stage’ or ‘they might get stolen.’”

“You just need to get someone to make you a replica.”

“That would work, but I’m not sure how much time it would take to fully replicate the look of my vestments...”

“Oh that’s no problem, you would just need to simplify the design. I bet I can get you in a replica in the next two days if you want, you know, for that other concert you’re doing.”

“You can’t possibly…” Primo stopped himself before he could dispel the idea, “Well, if you insist. I’ll buy you dinner if you can manage that feat, how’s that?”

“Well it looks like you just sealed your fate, my friend.” He said with a mischievous grin, and then turned to walk back down to the chair, “Now why don’t you just do a few more songs for me and then we’ll-“

“Terzo,” Primo grabbed onto his little brother’s shoulder and turned him back around to face him. He then held his hand tenderly as he looked him in the eye, “Thank you so much for all of this.”

“Of course, _frate_. I live for these theatrics!”

“I’m serious, you’ve done so much for me in such a short span of time. It reminds me of all those rare moments we used to spend together, just you and I. You are a wonderful person and I enjoy every minute I spend with you, I just want you to make sure you know that.”

Terzo’s face had softened at his elder’s words, acting as if it were the first time he had ever been given a compliment of that caliber, and Primo thought he could see a faint shine in his eyes before it was blinked away.

“Yeah... I-I’m glad that I’m one too.”

He stood there for a moment, unsure of what else to say. In truth, he didn’t have to give any coherent reply for Primo to know how much that compliment meant to him. The two then went and rehearsed a little while longer before calling it a night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That horror novel that Primo decided not to read is a reference to an actual book that I'm attempting to read at the moment called House of Leaves. Considering how notorious that book is for being difficult to read through, Satan help this old Papa if he ever attempts to get through it!


	5. Chapter 5

Standing in front of a large, ornate mirror in the living room of his quarters, Papa Emeritus I admired his image thoroughly.

Design-wise it was not exactly the most accurate to his proper vestments. The lining was rather basic and lacked much of the intricate detail of his real chasuble, and the silvery glitter added inside the inverted cross patterns gave the outfit a sort of “Halloween store costume” vibe. Yet Primo honestly couldn’t care less about these little details. The fact that Terzo was able to find someone who could craft this replica of both his chasuble and mitre in such short notice was all that mattered to him, and even despite it’s simplistic stylings it still did well to compliment his papal skull paint and proud demeanor.

Just as he was about to place the incense over the now heated coals in his censer burner, he heard a knock at the door. Upon opening it he found himself greeted by Secondo of all people, accompanied by a woman he had not met before. Judging by her lack of a habit alone, he determined that she was an outsider.

“ _Buonasera, fratello_.” Secondo greeted him casually.

“So this is the great Papa Emeritus Primo,” the stranger spoke, her voice teetering between being respectful and excited, “Hi, my name’s Maranda. I’m the one who made your costume. Um, if you don’t mind... I want to hear your full opinion on my design!”

“Ah, so you are the designer my brother commissioned,” Primo gave her a soft smile and bowed, “I would say you did a fine job on replicating my infernal vestments.”

“You really think so? I had to streamline the chasuble due to time constraints, but would you say that it overall matches the image you're going for on stage? I also wasn’t entirely sure about the glitter at first but I thought it would help reflect the stage lights-“

“ _Bella_ ,” Secondo chimed in, “I don’t think now is the time to pester him for a full review, he does have a concert to attend to.”

“Oh, right! My apologies. I guess we should all get going then, you and I still need to find a good seat.”

“Trust me, my dear, I don’t need to _find_ anything. As long as I walk into that room, I’ll have two good seats waiting for us. Oh, and you can go on ahead without me, I would like to speak to my brother in private.”

Maranda nodded, making sure to give Secondo a playful kiss on the cheek before hurrying off to the gallery room.

“I’ve been dating her for five months now. She’s a costume designer, and a very good tailor too, but this is the first time I’ve asked for a commission from her.”

“Wait a moment, you made the commission for my costume?” Now Primo was really puzzled. “Terzo told me that he would be the one to do that-”

“What was that now?”

Both turned at the sound of their youngest brother’s voice as he came rushing in from the other end of the hall.

“Sorry. I meant to meet you here earlier, but I lost track of the time.”

“Terzo, I thought you were the one who commissioned my costume?”

“Oh, he was. About two days ago I overheard him talking about it and we struck up a conversation. He told-"

“I told him everything,” Terzo interrupted, “about our practice and your idea to wear your papal attire. I mean considering that little stunt he pulled on you that afternoon, I felt it necessary to show my dominance as the superior brother!”

Secondo huffed, “What actually happened was that the poor boy was exhausted after spending all of the early morning looking up costume designers in the area and finding nothing. He told me all about that bet you two made in getting your outfit finished by this time, and it just happened that I knew the right person for the job. I guess that means you owe both of us a free meal!”

“Oh fuck off, it was all my idea! You just asked her to do it!”

“But I was the one who gave her the commission. That means I have stakes in this too. Anyway, about that afternoon…”

He paused for a short time, scratching the back of his neck as he contemplated what to say next. Primo could sense what was coming, but didn’t say a word.

“I just came by to, erm… admit that I had spoken out of term to you then. I was unaware of just how personally attached to the Project you were, and it was ungrateful of me to try and interfere with your position as frontman. Forgive me.”

Primo took in every word of his brother’s apology, then stepped forward to face him.

“Ah, Secondo, you use so many words just to say that you are sorry. Of course I forgive you, and why shouldn’t I? If you hadn't told me straight how mediocre my performance was, I wouldn’t have been as quick to try and correct myself. I’d say in the end you played a vital role in my growth!”

“Um, excuse me?” Terzo piped in, “Might I remind you that I was the one who did all the leg work when it came to preparing you for tonight? All this bastard ever did was bitch you out and tried to swoop in on your position like some starved harpy!”

“Ah, but I was also the only one of us who actually showed up to our brother’s concert.” Secondo said smugly, always keen on fueling his little brother’s indignation.

“I would of gone if I knew, and if father hadn’t stacked all that fucking work onto me!”

“Oh really now, coming from mister ‘I couldn’t have known about your concert because the clergy wasn’t gossiping about it.’ I must say, Secondo definitely has the advantage over you on that front!”

“Now where’s all this coming from all the sudden? The things I do for you ungrateful little _stronzos_!”

Primo couldn’t quite tell if Terzo himself was being facetious at their good-humored mockery of him, but still it made him grin. He grabbed his little brother and playfully lifted him, before bringing him back down for a regular hug.

“Is that my apology?” Terzo laughed, returning the hug.

“If you’d like. It’s the least I can give you for everything you’ve done, _bambino_.”

“Are you cooking something in there?” Secondo said, leaning into the doorway for a closer look.

“Oh shit, the coals!” Primo let go of Terzo and rushed back into his chambers to handle the censer burner.

* * *

“Are you ready for the last… ritual?”

Papa asked this simple question to his audience in a raspy, menacing voice. Just as he expected, they all gave their answer in a conjoined rumble of shouts, and so he raised both arms to command his ghouls to play their final song of the show, “Ritual.”

The audience for this show was at least double the number of people he played for just three days ago, so many that he had not even bothered to estimate just how many bodies he was looking at. The abbey didn’t even have enough chairs to support the amount of people in the gallery, so many siblings simply stood in the back and sides of the room, moving about and dancing to the rhythmic doom metal that graced their eardrums. Papa moved about the stage as he sang, emphasizing each lyric with a motion of his free hand all while making sure not to get in the way of his ghouls. He was glad he managed to convince them to start the set with “Con Clavi Con Dio” instead of “Stand By Him,” as both the siblings and even several of the upper clergy members went nuts seeing their Papa in full replicated regalia come in with a incense spewing censer.

“And on this night of ri-tu-aaaaaal

Evoking our maaaaaa-sterrrrr

To procreate the unholy baaaaaaaa-staaaaaaaaaaaard!”

The lead guitar soared with his vocals as the song was coming to a close. Every one of his ghouls played beautifully, and the crowd was clearly enraptured in their performance, yet at that moment all Primo could do was think about himself. He was finally a rock star, just like he had always daydreamed of being back in his teenhood, and feeling a sense of youth and vigor that he had not felt in decades.


End file.
